


Breakfast in Bed

by orphan_account



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Happily Ever After series, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its Fathers Day and Mika'il and Yasmin decide to do something nice for their fathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast in Bed

“Noooooo! Micky! You have to scramble it it before you put it in. I saw Mum do it.”

Mika'il turned around at the key moment as he was trying to crack the egg and it went all over the cooker.

Yasmin rolled her eyes. “I told you you were too short.”

“I am not!” Mika'il climbed down off his stool, walked over to the worktop and stretched up for another egg.

“Here, I'll do it,” Yasmin held her hand out for the egg.

Mika'il protected it. “I'm cooking the eggs cause Dad and Daddy like scrambled eggs and it was my choice.”

“Ok, but you have to do mix it in a bowl and then put in in the pan. I'll put the kettle on.”

“The kettle's too heavy for you!” Mika'il insisted. “Dad said so.”

“It is not. I'm going to make coffee.”

Mika'il concentrated for a moment, smashing the egg against the top of a breakfast bowl like he'd seen his parents do a million times. His fingers crunched the edges of the battered shell as it split apart and several bits got into the bowl.

“Now mix it with the fork,” Yasmin pointed.

“I knooooow!” Mika'il whined but he did as Yasmin told him.

“Where's the coffee?” Yasmin looked around. She opened the cupboard above the coffee machine but it was empty.

“I think Daddy moved it.”

“There's tea here, do you think that'll do?”

“Sure.”

Yasmin picked up a handful of teabags and dumped them in the kettle. The kettle _was_ too heavy for her to pick up so she found a jug and used it to shuttle water from the tap to the kettle and then hit the on button.

Mika'il meanwhile dumped the stirred egg into the pan waiting on the cooker. “Did you get my drawing?” Mika'il asked as he watched the egg cook.

Yasmin rolled her eyes again and sighed. “Yes! I told you! Here,” Yasmin handed Mika'il a spoon, “You have to stir it. That's how Dad does it.”

“With a spoon? Or a fork?”

Yasmin shrugged and went back to watching the kettle. “I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter. Do you think the toast is done yet?”

A distinctive burning smell began to pervade the kitchen from the direction of the toaster. Yasmin yelped and went to push the springy button but the toast that leaped out was most definitely black. She added it to the two other slices of black toast and put in two more. “Oops!”

“That stinks!”

“I'll put some more in,” Yasmin decided to try again. While the tea was boiling in the kettle and the toast was toasting Yasmin went to get the milk. Dad and Daddy liked milk with their tea and they especially liked milk in a nice little blue jug but they kept that at the top of the cupboards. Yasmin remembered there was still a sippy cup in with hers and Mika'il's plastic cups. She fetched it, pulled the lid off and managed to get it full of milk with only a little puddle on the table dripping onto the floor below.

The kettle boiled.

“We need a tray,” Mika'il said. “You can't have breakfast in bed without a tray. I always had a tray when I had chicken pox.”

“Right,” Yasmin agreed. The toast pinged. This time it was distinctively dark brown with black bits restricted to the middle of the slices and a few charred edges. She carried them over to the table but they were hot and one dropped in the spilled milk. She picked it up again and dropped it on a dry patch. 

Mika'il ran to fetch a tray where they were kept at the other side of the worktop and placed their carefully crafted fathers day card-pictures on the bottom. Their parents had deliberately put the adult plates out of their reach but special Fathers Day breakfast in bed had to come with Father sized plates so Yasmin climbed up onto the worktop to reach.

“Yasmin, do you think this is done?”

“Well the clear bits are all white and it looks kinda scrambled.”

“Its still runny.”

“Yeah but runny eggs are better,” Yasmin argued.

“Like runny yolks and toasty soldiers!” Mika'il grinned. Decision made, with a great effort he heaved the pan off the cooker, stepped down from the mat and placed it on the bare table, without a mat.

The thud made Yasmin jump. A plate jumped out of her hand and smashed to the floor. Both kids winced and looked at one another. Quickly Yasmin got another plate and jumped down onto the floor, narrowly avoiding shards of broken plate in her bare feet and pyjamas. It was only at that point that she realised she only had one. Well, maybe one would do?

Mika'il waited for the plates and then very responsibly started serving it out evenly in two portions onto the charred toast. A bit of eggshell stuck out of a lump of eggwhite. He put the sippy cup on the tray too. Yasmin added the empty mugs just as the kettle switched off. 

“I'll get the tea,” Yasmin declared.

Mika'il tried to get the mugs onto the tray but they wouldn't fit. “Yas, it won't fit.”

“Well squish it.”

“The plate's too big.”

“Hmm...” Yasmin didn't respond for a moment while she heaved the heavy kettle up and poured the boiled tea into the waiting mugs. “We can take it up and then we can clean up before they come back down here,” Yasmin decided. “There, that'll do. We'll have to carry the tea up. Do you want to take the tray or the mugs?”

“The tray.”

“Can you carry it?”

“I'm four! Not one!”

“Maybe you're too little though.”

“I'm not!”

“Ok, then, but if its too heavy we'll swap.”

However, after several aborted attempts at climbing the stairs with hot, heavy things the food was taking a battering and much of it had ended up on their pyjamas. A rethink was planned. 

“Ok,” Yasmin decided, “We'll go up with our drawings and then tell them there's a surprise and we can put it out down here.”

“Ok, I'll lay the table. I can do that now, because I'm big. Daddy said so.”

Yasmin let him do the work, setting places with plastic kids plates and cutlery from the drawer – stepping all the time around shards of broken plate – and putting the eggy toasty muddle in the middle along with the kettle of boiled tea so their parents could help themselves.

“There!” Mika'il put his finishing touch to it, his own card.

“No, we're going to take them up.”

“I'm leaving mine here. So they can look at it.”

“Mikky! We agreed!”

“Well I'm unagreeing cause you're being bossy!”

“Cause I'm older and you're supposed to do what I say!”

“Am not!”

“Whatever! I need to top up the tea, it spilled.”

A noise sounded on the stairs.

Two men appeared in the doorway, both wearing boxers and mussed hair. They watched wide-eyed as their daughter poured tea from the kettle.

There was egg yolk, egg shell, toast, milk...smashed plates, a top cupboard was open which could only have been opened by climbing up and the cooker was on.

Christian's face grew very red. What the hell did they think they were doing? Syed stared wide eyed, equal parts amazement and fear. He cleared his throat quietly and slung an arm around Christian's waist in the hopes of grounding him a little while he worked on laying out every ounce of fear he'd felt on their behalf.

As Christian's anger barrelled up inside him Mika'il came rushing forwards, little hands out. “Don't explode!” He told Christian sternly.

“What exactly did you think you were doing?” Syed looked from one to the other and settling on Yasmin who was old enough by now to know better, he was sure.

Mika'il however was not one to be put down by such feeble matters. “We made you breakfast!” He declared.

“You did?” Christian seemed astonished.

Yasmin held out the cards to him and made to step forwards.

“Happy Fathers Day!” Their children chorused together.

Christian let out a long sigh. It was adorable and terrifying and he'd never felt so old.

“It was...a lovely thought,” Syed acknowledged diplomatically.

Yasmin and Mika'il bloomed under the praise.

“Christ, Sy, don't encourage them! Its nearly as bad as when you've been at it.”

“I'm not that bad! Let me get shoes!”

“I'll help!” Mika'il insisted.

“You can stay right there,” Syed told him sternly while he went upstairs. Christian surveyed the mess.

“Its the thought that counts,” Yasmin reminded her father.

 

Christian tried to concentrate on that thought while he and Syed fetched shoes and rescued their children and cleared up the mess. Afterwards, at their childrens insistence and much poking and prodding, they had to go back up to bed and allow their breakfast – such as it was – to be taken up to them.

Their little munchkins stood by the door, waiting anxiously to see if it was alright.

“I did the toast, and the tea, and Mikky did the eggs,” Yasmin explained.

Christian plucked a bit of eggshell out of the eggs. “And what sort of eggs are they?”

“Well scrambled...obviously.” Mika'il pointed out. “I stirred them and everything.”

The toast was just about edible. Syed struggled not to spit out the tea. “It was really nice of you two to put so much effort into it,” Syed tried to find words that weren't too harsh, “But you really shouldn't be making things in the kitchen on your own. Either of you.”

“It was made with love,” Christian reminded his husband, “Its lovely.”

Syed gave his husband a look. 

Christian coughed quietly and nudged him to try a bite. 

Syed watched Christian take the smallest possible mouthful and make a lot of fuss about how delicious it was.

Yamin and Mika'il seemed happy with this. “Yay! Can we watch cartoons now.”

“Half an hour, no more,” Syed declared. “Enjoy it while you can, you're both grounded for cooking on your own.”

“But...!”

“You could have both been very seriously hurt,” Christian told them. “It was a lovely thought but...” He paused for a moment. No need to let them know how scared shitless he'd been at the sights in that kitchen. “Maybe next year, stick to cereal, ok?”

~


End file.
